


Dorothy Wakes Up

by jeffgoldblumvevo



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Injury Recovery, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeffgoldblumvevo/pseuds/jeffgoldblumvevo
Summary: Rodney would inhale toxic hallucinogenic gas for way, way less.





	Dorothy Wakes Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [respoftw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/gifts).



Rodney wakes up, immediately aware that he really is awake, this time. Something about the vague antiseptic quality of the air, and how his mouth tastes like something died in it: too shitty not to be real. 

Sheppard's sitting next to his hospital bed, Zelenka and Teyla slumped over in armchairs behind him, dozing. "Hey, buddy," he says. 

Rodney groans. 

"Should I get Keller?" Sheppard leans forward, tossing aside his Gameboy. "Are ya - "

Rodney shakes his head, trying to convey a general sense of _don't you fucking dare_ without dislodging his oxygen mask, because they have alarms for that sort of thing now, ever since Ronon took out all his IVs and tried to walk back to his room that time he got shot in the gut. 

"Okay, okay." Sheppard slides back into his seat, holding up his hands. "She won't take the mask off, anyway. She says you gotta wear it for at least another few hours, even if you wake up."

Rodney snorts, rolling his eyes. Typical.

"She is trained in this sort of thing," Sheppard says mildly - hypocritically, really, considering how exactly-the-same he is about medical doohickeys that get shoved down your throat. "Gave us kind of a scare, McKay. Doc says she reckons you inhaled enough of that stuff to permanently damage your lungs, if we hadn't gotten you under the, eh, the lung doohickey in time - "

 _It's a Nano-Diagnostic Respiratory Pharmocytic Device, you idiot,_ Rodney tries to say. It comes out more like "isha nanoff diownogoff reshpito pharmow duhoff ow idow," which is extremely undignified and annoying. 

"Uh huh," Sheppard says dryly. "Why don't you correct me later? You know, when you can talk again."

Rodney settles for glaring.

The concept seems to just be occuring to Sheppard. "Wow, this is something, isn't it? You can't talk _at all._ Like, not even a little bit."

Rodney glares harder. 

"It's okay." Sheppard reaches over and pats his arm. "I won't let Cadman in here. Trust me."

 _Oh, you couldn't pay me to_ , Rodney thinks viciously. 

Sheppard just smirks. "I suppose this is a good time to have that talk again about running head first into rooms full of mysterious gas to save everybody," he says. "Going for a record or something, McKay?"

Rodney huffs the best he can - really, it was the most expedient option. Plus, he hadn't thought about it much before he did it. That's the only way Rodney can do anything brave - by not thinking it through at all. 

"At least this time you were on Atlantis," Sheppard says darkly. "We could have come up with another solution, you know. You've got an entire staff of scientists who are getting military-grade hazard pay to do just that, I might _gently_ remind you."

Rodney gives him a scornful look he hopes conveys his utter disbelief at _that_ hypothetical option. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Sheppard shoots a look over his shoulder at Teyla and Zelenka, still asleep. Teyla looks as ethereal as always, of course, but Zelenka is about two inches from sliding right off his chair onto the floor, his glasses almost falling off his face, and he's snoring loudly. "We've been taking shifts. Ronon and Amy just left; I'm supposed to wake them up with Simpson gets here."

Rodney blinks, momentarily grateful he can't say anything. He wants to know how long Sheppard's been here, and if he's planning to leave, but even if he could talk, he couldn't ask. 

"Anyway." Sheppard pats Rodney's arm again. Usually Rodney hates that - it's so condescending - but Sheppard so rarely lowers himself to human touch that it almost feels like an honor of some sort being bestowed. Rodney would inhale toxic hallucinogenic gas for way, way less. "Glad you're okay, Rodney. Maybe just… _wait_ a little longer next time, huh? Try to be a little less stupid."

 _Great bedside manner, Colonel,_ Rodney would say, if he were able. He settles for glaring again.

Ridiculously, this makes Sheppard grin like a moron. "And don't worry," he says, exaggeratedly nice, "you didn't say anything _that_ embarrassing."

"Ah hay 'ou," Rodney manages.

"Thanks, buddy," Sheppard says, still grinning.


End file.
